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Compassion, Growth, and Precious Differences

July 24th, 2025 by Kelsey Ullom

In 2012, as a bright-eyed and adventure-seeking undergrad, I spent a semester studying community development in Kenya. This experience played a large role in launching me into my current career of international education. I returned from Kenya thinking “everyone needs to experience this” and made it my personal and professional mission to connect young people with these global opportunities.

Then and now: Me as a student with my host mom, Sheila, and host sister, Ashley.

Our reunion 13 years later!

 

Nearly 13 years later, I returned to East Africa for the first time to meet with my students who are interning with local non-profit organizations through the Loewenstern Fellowship. As with most post-travel reflections, words fail me and I find it challenging to sum up everything I experienced, even in just one day of my site visit. This is my humble attempt to tug at some strings that are still dangling in my brain:

Compassion in the face of injustice. I met with four different non-profit organizations in East Africa – three current community partners who are hosting interns, and one potential new partner. Each is working across different social issues – female empowerment, public health, anti-human trafficking, and refugee resettlement. Their teams are different sizes, their funding sources vary, they have different projects in the works and face different challenges. But they all share the same eager and steadfast belief that we can and should help the most vulnerable among us, and that process is always better when it’s collaborative. Every community partner emphasized the guiding principles we talk about every day at the Center for Civic Leadership: Do with, not for. The communities know what they need best – listen to them. Treat each person with dignity. Mobilize. Start with strengths. Think of creative and innovative solutions as opportunities, not fixes.

The Azadi team in Nairobi, Kenya.

 

The KIFAD team in Wakiso, Uganda.

 

The Pangea Network team in Nairobi, Kenya.

One moment in particular really drove this home for me: On the day I visited Azadi, a non-profit committed to supporting survivors of human-trafficking, I sat in on their monthly “learning hour,” where each member of the team (including the kitchen and cleaning staff) engages with an article, video, or podcast about a chosen topic and discusses together. The learning topic this month was compassion, and revisioning compassion as a tool for change.

Hanging out at the Azadi office.

This topic was salient in light of the protests that happened in Nairobi just two days before. Kenya’s Gen Z is leading the charge in demanding more transparency from President Ruto and commemorating the 22 protestors who died in violent clashes with the police at a similar protest last year. This year, 10 people were known to be killed by the police on the day of the protest, but more bodies were found in the coming days. It was brutal and scary and everyone was talking about it.

So here we were, two days after this horrific event that rocked the country, cozying up on the sofas in the Azadi office, talking about compassion.

People were disheartened. They were mourning. They were angry. How on earth could they be compassionate when they saw so little compassion from their leaders? The conversation took many interesting turns. How to approach with curiosity the humans with whom we feel most at odds. How to understand a problem from a different perspective. How to employ self-compassion. How to use anger as a tool for motivation towards compassionate action. How to balance compassion with accountability. Can accountability itself be compassionate?

It was fascinating to engage in this discussion and share insights from the US. The protests in LA a few weeks prior showed many parallels. We closed the conversation not with any clear answers, but with an overwhelming sense of solidarity, community, and hope as the Azadi team then transitioned back to their work. And this was just one hour at the Azadi office.

Growth is gradual. At the risk of sounding patronizing, I really want to take a moment to emphasize just how much the students are growing through this experience. I don’t think they always realize it. It’s difficult to spot growth when it is happening to you, but the best part of my job is that I get to witness the students’ growth over time – from when they first learn about the opportunity to go abroad, then submit an application, get the pre-travel jitters as they prepare for their summer internship, and go on to do amazing things in the years after their abroad experience.

 

I got to pop in to witness what a typical day is like for these interns. I saw them haggle with taxi drivers and order meals in Swahili. I met the local friends they’ve made and went to their favorite city park. I even joined them for a morning jog with a local running club before they started the work week. I saw their office space, their apartment, their corner grocery store. But most of all, I saw their astonishing growth. I saw confidence that they wouldn’t have recognized in themselves just a few months prior. I saw intuition as they navigated complicated group dynamics and working relationships. I saw humility as they laughed at themselves when they still messed up the word for “water” even after weeks of practicing the language. I saw more openness to nuance and less tendency to jump to a clear yes or no answer. I saw them ask their supervisors thoughtful questions and saw their supervisors beam proudly when the students took the lead on something they had trained them how to do just a few short weeks ago. I tried as often as I could to point out these things I was noticing to the students, to show them that these daily habits they have grown accustomed to are new skills they may not realize they have in their toolbox now.

I also saw moments of struggle, because growth is not always a constant upward path. Just as the students reflect on their experience through blog posts and written assignments, I reflected on my time as a student 13 years ago and how I am still using skills I learned from difficult moments during that semester abroad to help guide me through my personal and professional life today, in ways I never could have imagined then.

 

Difference is precious. When I met with the US Embassy in Nairobi, I learned the term “silicon savannah” as a descriptor of the vibrant industries and entrepreneurial spirit that is booming in Kenya. It was so refreshing to not see a single Amazon delivery truck on the roads. Instead, Kenyan-born businesses reigned, like M-Pesa, a mobile money tool that was co-created in Kenya years before we were using Venmo in the states.

I marveled at so many things that were being done differently in the places I visited and thought to myself, “why aren’t we doing this in the US?”

Every country should ban plastic water bottles in public parks like Kenya.

Every country should be as welcoming to refugees as Uganda.

Every airport should have community quiet rooms like Qatar.

But not everyone does, and that’s kind of beautiful too. We are not a homogenous world, and that’s the best part.

When I returned to the US, my brother asked me if I was happy to be back. Of course I am. I am happy to be closer to my friends, have my creature comforts like oat milk again, and not have to calculate the 10+ hour time difference in my head. But I am also going to miss my new friends that I didn’t get enough time with. I’m going to miss the incredible biodiversity of the Sub-Saharan and the noisy matatus and boda bodas that fill the streets during rush hour.

Our Western form of citizenship makes us believe we belong to only one place, as it’s defined by national borders. It’s not lost on me how lucky I am to have a passport that allows me to blur that sense of belonging by traveling to far away places. It’s a privilege to have my network and international community and it takes a lot of money and time to build it. With that privilege, I want to work against the confines of categorization and hold multiple perspectives simultaneously, in my role at the CCL and in life. I can choose to hold on to bits from each of these experiences and forge a path that reflects all the light I’ve witnessed in these places and people.  

I know the partners who host Rice students also choose to do the same thing. They choose to hear new ideas at their staff meetings, take a chance on hosting a stranger in their home, and hold open arms to students from far away when the news headlines give them every reason to be cautious.

This is what I strive to create through our programs at the CCL – a sense of connection. Multiplicity. A holistic view instead of either/or and us/them. We need to reach across arbitrary borders to feel joy and pain with our fellow earth-dwellers. We need to hold our differences preciously, and in doing so, find our fundamental similarities.

CCL, Rice360, iSeed, and alumni sharing a meal in Nairobi!

Resilience, Reframed: A Month in Kenya

July 22nd, 2025 by Naomi Saenger

I’ve been thinking this week about how much my emotional state can affect my reality. Although events that are disappointing, stressful, or exciting can somewhat affect an experience, my experience really comes from how I manage my emotional response to the situation. I’m someone who definitely feels my emotions on the 1-to-10 scale, meaning that I can feel incredibly happy or deeply devastated. This translates into my emotions really ruining, or amplifying, my experiences.

When I’m back in Home or at Rice, I’ve learned how to manage my negative emotions through adapting to one of my self-care tools. It’s easy for me to adjust a bad mood by hanging out with friends, calling family, going for a long walk, swimming, getting a yummy treat, or taking a break outside. However, here in Nairobi, where pretty much everything is different and I don’t necessarily have easy access to those options, I’ve had to learn how to change my mindset and perception.

I’m currently in Kenya through the Loewenstern Fellowship, working with The Pangea Network, a nonprofit focused on women and youth empowerment.

I’ve found that a situation is relative based on so many aspects. It can depend on who you are with, whether you have been there before, or other outside events, but I think your experience is primarily your emotional response to the situation. I’ve found over the past month that if I allow myself to become stressed or frustrated, I will succumb to that emotion for hours, ruining an experience for myself. But, if I try to change my emotional response even a little, it can really transform an experience.

It’s been a month—halfway through my time here in Kenya—which has naturally prompted a lot of reflection. I’ve reflected a lot on how this experience so far has shifted my views of myself and the world. And even in that larger reflection, I’ve noticed how much my emotions can decide that perception of an entire month. How was it difficult? How was it easy? Where did I learn the most so far? What other areas can I grow in? All these questions have answers that change dramatically based on my emotions.

I’ve reflected about this idea of perception especially after interviewing women business owners of the Agroupa Mandazi Women’s group last Friday. Note that Mandazi is a type of breakfast donut popular in Kenya (see photo below).

This Mandazi is lemon flavored!

This women’s cooperative received a micro-loan and training cycle years ago before the Covid Pandemic from the Pangea Network. They still functionally operate as a cooperative, with 20-some members, in Ongata Rongai, Kenya. Ongata Rongai, or Rongai, is the county right below Nairobi, and it only takes about 30-40 minutes to drive there.

Rongai main produce market

I didn’t know how many women from the group were willing to be interviewed, but once we arrived, we learned of the 7 women who wanted to share how the Pangea Network has changed their lives. Our interviews were focused on the impact of the loan and training on the success of their business revenue and quality of life.

We really didn’t stop for a break in-between any of the interviews across Rongai, given that almost all of the women have multiple children who come home from school in the evenings. As I listened to their stories throughout the day, I was, and still am, in awe of their bravery and resilience. They spoke of their hardships, in such a way not to get pity from me, but to truly speak to their experience of starting a business. Many of them emphasized the importance of remaining hopeful. That as long as they keep believing in this idea of hope, they will continue to survive.

To hear how they still are trying to expand their business, by moving to a larger location, or investing in new equipment, to care for their families, is so inspiring. One woman I spoke to shared how she is feeding not only her three children and her sister’s children, but also her mother and very sick brother. After she shared that emotional story, she then shifted in how she wants to expand her business location and how she actively discusses women’s rights in the market she works in. Her ability to seamlessly navigate her extremely difficult challenges with her strong sense of female entrepreneurship is inspiring.

It makes me think again of perception. These women could very much be negative, angry, and depressed; it would be fair and understandable. But, they continue to be hopeful, positive, and honestly, resilient. They’ve shifted their emotions to better adapt to their experience, thus making themselves succeed.

In some ways, what these women taught me during our conversation echoed the very lesson I’ve been learning in Nairobi myself: that resilience isn’t about avoiding discomfort, but about choosing how to respond to it. While I’ve been missing familiar comforts and tools to shift my mindset, these women reminded me that hope itself is a form of emotional discipline. It isn’t a great big decision for them—it’s cultivated inthe quiet everyday decisions, daily gratitude, and mindful practices.

I hope that I can continue to carry this idea of perception with me through the next month here. I also hope to bring these lessons back with me to Rice. Especially the idea that emotional discipline and perspective shape how we experience challenge and growth, both in and out of the classroom.

Stories from Bogotá: ¡Qué chimba!

July 22nd, 2025 by Riya Yarlagadda

It was roughly six in the morning when I finally made my way out of the El Dorado airport and into the piercingly cool morning air of Bogotá. Even though it was very early in the morning, the sky was already waking up to a new day. The first thing I noticed was the mountains. They decorated the horizon and stretched out for miles – a beauty my eyes were fixated on during the long ride to my apartment. 

View of the mountains in Bogotá from my room! I still can’t believe this was the view I would wake up to every morning.

Solo Travel + Language 

After arriving at my apartment, I quickly succumbed to sleep only to wake up with a deep ache of homesickness. The reality of spending over two months in a new place, speaking a language I barely knew, began to set in. Navigating Bogotá alone during those first two weeks was daunting. I’d walk to Javeriana University to work on my project, but I avoided exploring the city, often wasting time in my apartment, glued to my phone, or staring at the mountains. Eventually, I pushed myself to visit nearby shops and grocery stores (fun fact: milk and eggs aren’t refrigerated here) and began feeling more grounded with each passing day.

Learning to navigate the streets was one thing, but navigating the language was a whole different story. The phrases ‘no entiendo’ and ‘otra vez’ became part of my everyday vocabulary, which I relied on at restaurants or during project meetings. However, despite these struggles, I grew more comfortable with the Spanish language through frequent conversations with my community partners (+ Google Translate), who were always patient. 

The Earthquake

Just as I was settling into the groove of my life in Bogotá, I woke up one morning to my whole room shaking. It took me a minute to process that I was experiencing my first earthquake. My adrenaline quickly took control as I ran out of my room and onto the street filled with people. Everyone was dazed and confused as we waited for the earthquake to subside before we entered our apartment again. The magnitude 6.3 earthquake definitely rattled me emotionally and physically, but now I reminisce about it.

All About Bogotá (+ Cartagena)

Bogotá is the perfect destination to escape the hot Texas summer. With its steady year-round temperatures in the 50 – 60°F and the occasional drizzle, I quickly fell in love with the crisp, cool weather. Every day felt like sweater weather! One of the first things I noticed was how early the sun rises and sets (grateful for blackout blinds 🙏🏻). By dawn, the city is already alive: people heading to work, walking their dogs, or getting in a morning workout. Bogotá even has dedicated lanes down the center of major roads for runners and cyclists, and on Sundays, entire streets are closed off just for them.

Roads are closed on Sunday mornings for anyone who wants to bike, walk, or run.

In addition to this active lifestyle, the city’s social atmosphere is equally warm and welcoming. It’s common for strangers to greet you with a simple ‘buenas’ wherever you go. From Uber drivers to bookshop employees, I have received several amazing recommendations when it comes to exploring Bogotá and Colombia. One of my favorite spots in Bogotá has to be La Candelaria. La Candelaria is the heart of Bogotá – the historic center that is bustling with street vendors, tourists, and musicians. La Candelaria is also home to several amazing museums, of which Museo de Botero and MAMBO are my favorites. 

Outside of La Candelaria, one of my most physically demanding adventures was hiking Monserrate. Bogotá’s high altitude was no joke; I could feel it with every step as I climbed nearly two miles with an elevation gain of around 2,900 meters. The air was thin, my legs ached, and the path seemed endless. However, reaching the summit made it all worth it. From the top, the view of Bogotá sprawled beneath me, a breathtaking patchwork of mountains, buildings, and sky. I ended the day sampling unfamiliar fruits like feijoa, zapote, and maracuyá – each offering a new taste of Colombia’s richness and diversity.

View of the center of Bogotá from the top of Monserratte.

Escaping Bogotá, I truly enjoyed exploring the salt mines in Nemocón and the wonderful city of Cartagena. It was interesting to witness the vast salt mines that fueled Colombia’s economy and the history behind the development of these mines. On the other hand, I reveled in the sun at the beaches in Cartagena while dancing the night away at the historic Gestsemani neighborhood. I marveled at the Old City Walls that stretched for miles, protecting the neighborhood from pirate attacks in the past, and walked the lively streets dotted with musicians, shops, and restaurants. 

Monumento Torre del Reloj (left), which marks the entrance to Cartagena, and a plaza (right) filled with vendors and live music.

Foodie at Heart

Exploring Cartagena also meant indulging in the diverse food scene. The city offered me a medley of flavors: the tang of tart mussels, the tenderness of shrimp ceviche, the sweetness of coconut rice, and the chill of a coconut paleta. 

My travel buddy Alina and I devoured refreshing paletas (right), a perfect treat after our meal at La Mulata, an incredible seafood spot where I tried a dish called Camarones Mulatos (left).

Bogotá didn’t disappoint when it came to food, either. Traditional Colombian dishes, such as ajiaco and tamal, grew on me, and I came to appreciate how fresh yet hearty the meals were. In addition to local food, Bogotá offers a wide variety of international cuisine. Alina and I have explored Indian, Japanese, Thai, Mexican, Italian, American, and Greek cuisine. Each restaurant offered its own distinct flavors, with some adding a Colombian twist—like Vitto, an Italian spot that creatively incorporated plantain into its pasta.

It didn’t take long for me to notice that Colombia’s flavors extend far beyond the plate. Nearly every restaurant we visited offered unique drinks, and somewhere along the way, I made it my mission to find the best mango juice in the country. Quero Arepa in Cartagena claims the top spot in my book — sweet, smooth, and almost too good to be real — followed closely by Vitto in Bogotá, whose juice was just as refreshing. Alongside my juice-tasting journey, I’ve also grown accustomed to the steady rhythm of Colombian coffee, each cup rich and grounding, fueling long days and slow mornings alike. Tinto, Colombia’s bold black coffee, kept me going through long days in Usme, while the fragrant Matcha Chai became my quiet fuel during hours of project planning.

Raíces Futuras: My Project in Usme, Bogotá

My Loewenstern project focuses on promoting the work of urban gardeners while passing down oral history about plant and environmental care to younger generations in the rural Bogotá district of Usme. To get there, I navigated the city’s transportation system—first taking the Transmilenio to the 20 de Julio portal, then boarding an Alimentador bus that connects to various Usme neighborhoods. Public transportation is widely used in Bogotá, efficiently linking urban and rural areas at a relatively low cost.

Buses can get very busy, especially during rush hours.

During my first visit to Tihuaque, a neighborhood in Usme, I was immediately struck by the contrast between the area, central Bogotá, and the U.S. The streets were noticeably narrower, winding along steep inclines, and the buildings – made of aluminum, concrete, and brick—felt more densely packed. Frequent rain left the roads muddy, and the colder weather added to the rugged atmosphere. Yet despite these differences, the view from the heights of Usme was breathtaking: golden light filters through the clouds, casting a soft glow over a patchwork of colorful rooftops tucked into the lush green folds of the mountains.

Views of the mountains from Tihuaque, Usme.

Apart from the views, my favorite part of Usme would have to be the people. As I recall, upon my first interactions with elder farmers, I reminisce about the warmth they extended towards me. With each and every ‘huerta’ or garden I visited, I was greeted with tea, tinto, and/or a piece of soft bread. With each snack, followed a deep yet joyous conversation about the farmers’ work, struggles, and daily life. I have learned a lot about the community the farmers in Usme have built, the struggles of selling and growing their produce, and their zeal for environmentally sustainable practices. Each and every farmer had so much passion for their land and work that it made me more conscious of the waste I leave behind. 

A huerta of one of the huerteras (farmers) named Beatriz. She uses eggshells, food scraps, and earthworms to provide organic nutrients to her plants, avoiding chemicals.

Using what we’d learned, Alina and I designed interactive workshops on environmental sustainability for children. Our visits to Nueva Esperanza and El Domo in Usme quickly became some of my favorite memories. The kids would swarm us with questions about our lives in the U.S., our families, hobbies, and thoughts on Colombia—some even asked us to speak in English, giggling at our responses. Their curiosity was contagious. Through games, discussions, and hands-on activities, we explored sustainability and sparked interest in farming, a priority voiced by local elders. Watching students engage so joyfully with these ideas was incredibly rewarding. Saying goodbye to these students, knowing I may never speak with them again, is a difficult reality I’m still processing. However, this experience has only deepened my eagerness to build similar connections within my own community back in the U.S.

Conclusion 

As I reach the end of my trip, I feel extremely grateful for this journey of cultural and social exploration in addition to self-development. I believe that this trip has allowed me to view the world from a different lens and has allowed me to be more open-minded to trying new things and interacting with diverse people. My Loewenstern experience will be forever etched in my heart, and I cannot wait to share my story about this eye-opening experience with others. 

Inside the Markets of Bolivia

July 21st, 2025 by Elizabeth Craig

Throughout my time living in Cochabamba and working with Banco de Alimentos de Bolivia, many of my most memorable experiences have been in the markets here. Coming from the United States, when I thought of a “market” I thought of Kroger or Walmart, or maybe a farmers’ market. But here, especially being part of the food bank, the local markets and even the supermarket chains have been super interesting to explore.

Inside a Santa Cruz market where we collect produce

So far, I’ve gone shopping at two different supermarket chains here: Hipermaxi and IC Norte. When I went grocery shopping for the first time in Cochabamba, it was honestly very different from my previous grocery shopping experiences. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but many of the ingredients and brands that I was used to and that were super accessible in the United States weren’t available in Bolivia or, if they were, were imported and thus more expensive. For example, a 13 ounce container of Nutella costs $4.79 at Target in the United States, whereas at Hipermaxi, based on the official exchange rate, it’s closer to $25. I was also surprised to see milk, juice, and yogurt in bags and eggs sitting out unrefrigerated, practices different than what I’d seen in the United States. I’ve definitely had to adapt to cooking using the ingredients and brands that are here, but I have to say that I’ve come to love a lot of the brands and will definitely be missing them once I leave (special shoutout to Saladix chips and Pilfrut Durazno juice.)

The ice cream section in La Cancha

Another unique market experience here in Cochabamba has been going to La Cancha. La Cancha is one of South America’s biggest markets and it has thousands of vendors, selling really anything that you could be looking for. My first time going I went with Joshua and two people from the food bank, Yu and Carolina. It was super interesting to see all of the things being sold, especially the items that normally wouldn’t be sold in a supermarket in the United States or in Bolivia. For example, in the meat section, there were definitely some cuts for sale that I wasn’t used to seeing, like the nose of a cow which can be used for some soups. There were also live animals for sale, including chickens, bunnies, puppies, kittens, rats, birds, and guinea pigs. Around 48% of people in Cochabamba identify as being Indigenous, and as such there are many vendors selling Quechua and Aymara clothing, aguayos, and materials to use in the honoring of Pachamama (Mother Earth.) Each time that I’ve gone to La Cancha, I’ve been amazed at the breadth of goods being offered and it never ceases to surprise me what I might find during a visit there.

A cute dog in Mercado Campesino

At Banco de Alimentos de Bolivia, one of our main sources of donations is the vendors at markets like Mercado Campesino. When we go to the market to collect donations, we usually load up a cart with some empty boxes and bring cards with information about the food bank and go one by one from casero to casero. Sometimes, the vendors will have some fruits or vegetables that are less likely to be sold for one reason or another. For example, maybe they might have a strange shape, be smaller than normal, or be colored differently. These products the caseros are often willing to donate, and from there we can bring the produce back to the food bank and go through it to make sure it’s safe to eat before getting it to the beneficiaries. One of my favorite memories from collecting produce with the food bank was in Santa Cruz. This time, I was paired with Pame and was going with her to help her carry the collections. Pame speaks Quechua, and it was honestly really enlightening to see how the caseritas opened up to her when they saw how she spoke their language with the kindness and gentleness that anyone who has met Pame is so familiar with. I think that just goes to show the effect that such compassion and connection can have on many other contexts in our day to day lives.

Capinota

Since coming here, I’ve also gotten to see how the food gets to the market during a visit to Capinota, a town about two hours outside of Cochabamba. Jheysson, a director at Banco de Alimentos de Bolivia, says that Capinota is where the majority of food in Cochabamba comes from. There are fields sprawling as far as the eyes can see filled with crops that will be harvested for produce and sent to the markets. Where there’s no crops, there’s cows, chickens, or other animals that will be used for food. I was pleasantly surprised when I saw a Pil truck picking up milk from a local dairy farm. Pil is a very large dairy company in Bolivia, so it was nice to see that the large companies depend on the local farmers. My own grandparents are farmers, so I always love when the smaller, family farms are being supported. There in Capinota, we were able to pick up a donation of carrots and potatoes that had just been harvested and talk to some of the people working to pull up carrots from the ground, which was really cool.

Getting to learn from the many different market environments in Cochabamba during my time with the food bank has been one of the highlights of my Loewenstern experience. It has made me feel more connected with the people and cultures of Bolivia and developed my appreciation for local food systems and the people who sustain them. I’m so grateful for Banco de Alimentos de Bolivia and for the Loewenstern Fellowship for allowing me to work with such an incredible organization in such a beautiful country.

 

Adventures in Kenya!!

July 14th, 2025 by Aarthi Kukaruban

The people at Azadi, my community partner, are so welcoming. Every Monday, the one day the whole team meets at the resource center, they greet us with warm hugs, and we spend the first hour or so settling in and chatting over breakfast. On the day I arrived, one of the members gave me a Swahili name: Zuri, which I later learned means “beautiful.” We also begin every meeting with a round of check-ins. Before coming here, asking “How are you?” always felt like a formality, and answering “Good” was just my automatic response. But it’s been refreshing to see how much the team values honestly sharing how you feel, especially if you’re not doing the best, and expressing when you need time to rest and recover. The resource center – where meetings, wellbeing activities, and other programming take place – is an actual house, which feels fitting since the space is meant to feel like home. We eat meals together, collaborate on our work together, and engage in fun activities together. Everyone in the Azadi community, from the staff to the members, treats one another like family.

That sense of community has been especially grounding as I adjusted to a completely different pace of life. Although I’ve appreciated the break from Rice’s fast-paced grind and the typical 9-to-5 routine, the lack of structure most days was definitely an adjustment. I found myself getting anxious whenever I had too much spare time and didn’t know what to do with myself, especially during my first two weeks before my travel buddy arrived. But I’ve learned to use the spare time to my advantage and explore everything Nairobi had to offer. Some days I’d check out a café, thrift clothes, or take a stroll in the forest near where I live (it’s so lush and green here, which is something I’ll certainly miss when I return to the stretches of cement in Houston).

Karura Forest

There were also some moments that reminded me of Sri Lanka, the country where my parents immigrated from. For one, chapatis and samosas are popular snacks here in Kenya as well. The fruit stalls (fruits from here are tastier and cheaper compared to those at the grocery store!), markets selling hand-crafted items, and the overall atmosphere brought back memories of summers spent in Sri Lanka when I was younger. The auto rickshaws (known locally as tuktuks) were also a familiar sight. These three-wheeled vehicles are especially popular in the coast, and we rode one during an Uber trip. They have some other fun means of transportation as well, including boda bodas, which are motorcycle taxis… They’re exhilarating if you enjoy an adrenaline rush! But the most distinctively Kenyan form of transport has to be the matatus. These buses are covered in colorful graffiti, and no matter the time of day, they’re blasting upbeat music and flashing vibrant lights inside!

Matatu!

It’s been eye-opening to see how some everyday activities, ones you usually don’t think twice about, can turn into wild adventures in a foreign country. Take crossing the road, for instance. In Houston, it’s simple: wait at a crosswalk, then go when the light changes. But in Kenya, there aren’t really any crosswalks, pedestrian signals, or even traffic lights. Especially during rush hour, crossing the street becomes a feat. Driving seems like a whole other thing too… Even though the lanes are marked, they’re often treated more like suggestions (I still trust these drivers more than Houston drivers 😅)

Exploring the city also meant navigating some cultural and language barriers. While everyone at work could communicate in English, the preferred language was Swahili. In other words, whenever the team would talk casually among themselves, it was always in Swahili. Sometimes this made it challenging to join in on conversations, but it’s pushed me to take more initiative in starting conversations and learning a few words in Swahili as well! One that I’d become familiar with early on was “mzungu”, which is the Swahili word for foreigner.

One of the most rewarding parts of being here has been forming friendships with locals! We made a good friend here who’s been taking us around the city and introducing us to places we would’ve never found on our own. One morning, we visited Gikomba market, a massive and chaotic open-air market with vendors selling second-hand clothing imported from the U.S. and countries in Europe, which are now being sold for as little as 100 shillings (equivalent to around 75 cents). At the market, we didn’t come across a single other foreigner, which made it feel like a true hidden gem. It was definitely hectic and overwhelming at first, with narrow aisles packed with people, and vendors occasionally tapping us on the shoulder or calling out to get our attention, but I’m glad I got to experience the mitumba business, which is a major source of both employment and affordable clothing. Our local friend also introduced us to some foods I’ve never tried before. One was mabuyu, a street snack made from baobab seeds coated in sugar, spices, and coloring. A small bag costs just 10 shillings (less than 10 cents) and she showed us the proper way to eat it: let the coating dissolve in your mouth, then spit out the seed. I also tried some new tropical fruits like granadilla, which is similar to passionfruit, and super delicious.

Mabuyu, a street snack found in Kenya!

As I’m writing this, I still have a few weeks left to go in Kenya, and I’m excited for what awaits!

El Peso Colombiano: A Chaotic Welcome to Medellín 🇨🇴

July 8th, 2025 by Danielle Colón

 

“I’m sorry, I just can’t let you in. I hope you all can understand where I’m coming from.”

Danielle and Valeria giving a thumbs up with a large filled pink suitcase is open on an airport scale.

Me and Valeria reorganizing and redistributing the items in my checked bag so its underweight.

Those were definitely NOT the words I imagined (or wanted) to hear on my very first night in Medellín. After a long travel day, nearly an hour’s drive from the airport and a 7ish hour flight from Texas, my travel buddy, Valeria, and I found ourselves standing outside the gate of our Airbnb. We scrambled as we tried to find a place to sleep for our first night in Colombia.

The security guard spoke fast and even with our combined Spanish skills, it was hard to get the full picture of what he was saying. The address had so many numbers (a very common feat here in Medellín) that I had completely skimmed over the fact that we were missing the actual apartment number (very much my bad). “Were we being scammed?” Was the first thought that crossed my mind. Thankfully, the next morning brought clarity: our host had just been asleep and the automated system to give us the information needed didn’t go through for whatever reason. We were finally let in relieved that this situation turned into a funny story to recall later instead of having to live at the office.

Even when first arriving at the airport, the shift was real. My suitcase was a tad overweight (oops), but thanks to a kind airline employee and some creative redistribution between my bag, Valeria’s, and our carry-ons, we made it work. Sitting at the gate, I overheard conversations all around me in Spanish. Me and Google Translate were about to get REAL close.

 

The Language Barrier

I grew up in bilingual classrooms up until high school, so I knew Spanish was still somewhere in me but I’ve been out of practice for a good while. But full immersion is a whole different game. I came into this knowing I’d probably need to sharpen my R-rolling skills if I wanted to get around with any confidence.

At first, I was quiet. Not because I didn’t have anything to say, but because by the time I translated what someone said and figured out how to respond, the conversation had already moved on. So I’d laugh, smile, or nod and hope it was the right reaction. I’ve had to get comfortable asking people to repeat themselves— or just admit when I don’t understand. Still, I can feel myself improving, and me and Valeria help each other out by conversing in Spanish when we’re out and about. I’ve come a long way, both from the day I accepted this fellowship back in December and from the moment I arrived in Medellín a few weeks ago.

City First Impressions

A viewpoint from above of the busting city of Medellin. Lots of graffiti artwork, people walking, cars, and motorcycles are passing through.

This is the view from the San Antonio metro stop! It’s very central to the city and many people pass through here everyday.

Medellín, at first glance, reminded me a lot of New York in the way how storefronts are small, densely packed, and spill right out onto the street. The city runs at its own pace: constant, lively, and always moving no matter what time of day it might be. There’s no A/C in most places (including our apartment), but you don’t really need it— the temperature hovers around a comfortable 70°F, so fans and rolled-down car windows do the trick most of the time. Most people get around by walking or using the metro, and on weekends, parts of the roads are even closed off so people can bike, run, or walk freely which is pretty neat.

Each area we’ve visited has its own vibe. Laureles is casual and tourist-friendly, with recognizable restaurants and coffee shops. El Poblado is louder— full of nightlife, tours, and a more intense energy. And then there’s La Candelaria, where our community partner is based, near the Universidad de Antioquia and el Jardín Botánico (the Botanical Garden). It feels more local, more lived-in with graffiti-covered walls and street vendors on every corner. The university itself is constantly buzzing, with classes running from 6 a.m. to 11 p.m. to fit students’ work schedules. You need a passport and a purpose to get in. Even then, it’s always packed— people working, talking, resting, just existing.

Motorcycles are everywhere. So are hills. The city is wrapped by barrios (neighborhoods) in the mountains, and the metrocable, a cable car system, makes it easy for those commuting from those barrios to the less elevated parts of the city. Because of these very uneven terrains, travelling to other major cities is most convenient when travelling by plane. One of the most unforgettable moments so far was our Uber ride to Cerro El Picacho, a gorgeous viewpoint overlooking the city. Our driver had to go backwards up and down steep, narrow roads, honking at every blind corner just to make it safely. It was both terrifying and honestly extremely impressive.

 

Danielle looking out over the city of Medellin in the night. There are tons of city lights.

Looking out over the city of Medellin from Cerro El Picacho, a beautiful viewpoint, especially at night!

Danielle and Valeria smiling with a cart in had right outside the Makro grocery store

Me and Valeria’s first time shopping at Makro, a giant grocery store! It’s probably most similar to a Sam’s Club or Costco in the U.S.

 

The Daily Essentials

At first, we Ubered everywhere— even if it was just a few blocks away. We were such scaredy cats, but it felt justifiable at the time as prices range from $1-5 USD. Plus, the sun sets early in Medellín— around 6 pm— and we weren’t exactly eager to be out exploring unfamiliar streets in the dark. Grocery runs were their own adventure. We started off buying huge jugs of water, only to later learn that Medellín’s tap water is actually some of the cleanest in the entire country. You also have to bring your own grocery bags and bag everything yourself— something that caught us off guard the first time. At the stores, there are almost always alternatives for unhealthy foods— plus, there are labels on everything that warn you if it’s high in sodium, sugar, or fat. The city is full of food markets, street vendors, and people selling everything from snacks to fresh fruit from carts or makeshift setups on the corners. If you order delivery, you’re probably using Didi or Rappi (their version of Uber Eats or DoorDash) and your deliverer is 100% on a motorbike!

 

 

An arepa, egg, rice, beans, chicken, and a slice of avocado

The typical Colombian dish! Protein, beans, rice, egg, plantain, an arepa, and a slice of avocado (if you’re lucky!)

Comuna 13 & Colombian Cuisine

One of the most memorable days so far was our visit to Comuna 13— a neighborhood once known as one of the most dangerous in the world, now transformed into a hub of street art, music, and resilience. We toured the area with a local guide who had lived through its darkest times and told us he had lost about 30% of his family (similar to others there) to the violence that once ruled the streets due to its prime location for transporting drugs. The stories were heavy, but the energy in the neighborhood today is full of life and color. Because of the landscape, there’s solar-powered outdoor escalators that help carry people up the steep hillside to their homes, and instead of major grocery stores (because the closest one is usually a 40 minute commute down), people often have mini-grocery stores in their homes! All the homes are typically made of the same orange brick material, which is one of the cheapest yet strongest available!

I was super excited to learn we would eat their way through the tour— I tried a buñuelo (a dough with crispy outside filled with cheese), an empanada (crispy corn pastry-like thing with sausage), a patacón con hogao (flat fried plantain with tomato paste), and a very refreshing mango popsicle (yum!). Traditional Colombian meals have their rhythm: red beans, rice, a simple salad, plantain, a protein, and an arepa— always accompanied by a limeade or some type of juice. Water, surprisingly, is rarely included and usually costs extra. Around La Candelaria, near our community partner, most restaurants and food stalls are cash-only, which we’ve learned the hard way. One day we came up $7,000 COP short (about $1.73 USD), and I had to do the “walk of shame” back to our community partner’s office to borrow money while Valeria waited behind at the restaurant (whose limeade cost exactly $7,000 COP by the way).

An escalator outside with solar panels on top

The escalator inside the Comuna 13 neighborhood powered by solar panels on top

View of the barrios (neighborhoods) in Comuna 13

Famous mural in Comuna 13 made during the time of Operation Orion in 1993. It was a symbol for leaving violence behind in the past and heading towards a better future.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

La Piedra in Guatapé

A very large rock, La Piedra, with stairs leading to the top

La Piedra, the infamous rock in Guatapé with over 700 steps to get to the top

Our first real interaction with other tourists came during a weekend trip to Guatapé, a colorful town a couple of hours outside of Medellín. We took a boat ride across the reservoir to La Manuela, one of Pablo Escobar’s former estates, now partially destroyed. The stories we heard there were surreal— like how his bathroom was blown up in a police raid, or how money was once hidden in the walls. The highlight came after another boat ride to La Piedra del Peñol— a massive granite rock with over 700 steps carved into its side. On the other side of the rock, you can see the partial letters “GU” (meant to eventually spell “GUATAPE”) from a land dispute between Guatape and El Peñol, a neighboring town, about who is the rightful owner of La Piedra. Turns out none of them were because after their fight over the matter, the rock was deemed property of Colombia. Anywho, the climb to the top was brutal, but the view at the top was insane. If you ever find yourself in Medellín, Guatape is definitely worth the pit stop!

Beautiful water and landscape scenery from high up. Small cars and roads can be seen.

The view from the top of La Piedra in Guatapé!

 

Danielle and Valeria posing in front of a table that has circuits on it. In the back is a large poster that reads "Inspiración".

Preparing for teaching in a class on renewable resources using circuits!

Working at Pygmalion Tech

I was thrown straight into learning about renewable resources— a topic I definitely had to brush up on. But I figured, if the kids could learn it, so could I. At Pygmalion, lessons center around “Conexión, Experimento y Reflexión,” and every session we teach kids kicks off with the same chant:

“Buenos días, amiguitos! ¿Cómo están? ¡Muy bien!

Este es un saludo de amistad. ¡Qué bien!

Haremos lo posible para ser buenos amigos. ¡Buenos días, amiguitos! ¿Cómo están? ¡Muy bien!”

Me and Valeria spent an entire afternoon quizzing each other on the lyrics. One of our sessions took place at Parque Arví, about an hour and a half drive out, where the views were breathtaking and the students were curious and engaged. The younger groups were easier to connect with, while the older ones took a little more effort. I was mostly on the sidelines, assisting and observing, but I’ll admit I was nervous the kids would catch on to the fact that their Spanish was stronger than mine but that luckily hasn’t been the case… yet. Afterward, we took the Metrocable back down, giving us a stunning overhead view of the city. It’s crazy to me that so many take this trip on the daily!

Now, we’re working more on research— looking at different competitors to help Pygmalion grow its impact and stay ahead in the world of ed-tech. The first week left me exhausted, not just from adjusting to a new routine, but from operating entirely in Spanish. But it’s definitely a learning process: now we’ve made various reports, presentations, and spreadsheets all in Spanish (so I’d say that’s progress)!

Scenic green landscape filled with trees! Photo taken from the metro car.

The view from the metrocable!

 

Reflecting and My Future in Medellín

Coming into this fellowship, I had a few clear goals: immerse myself in a new culture, contribute meaningfully to a social impact project, improve my Spanish, and generally just push myself outside beyond my comfort zone. This opportunity was a big one for me and brought about a lot of firsts. It’s my first time living on my own, my first real internship, and my first time traveling abroad. When I got the acceptance (which I wasn’t really expecting), my first thought was, “There’s no way I can actually say yes to this, right?” I was admittedly pretty terrified at the thought of going somewhere so emotionally and physically foreign at first. But the pre-departure course along with my travel buddy has helped ease my nerves and has shown me that I’m fully capable— of learning, contributing, and growing in this space. Looking ahead, I’m hoping to keep challenging myself: make new friends, try cooking different foods at our Airbnb, and soak in every experience— starting with a trip to Cartagena next week!!

Danielle, Valeria, and Owen with lifevests on on a boat

Me, Valeria, and Owen (a friendly face from Rice) on a boat!

 

At the end of the day, I’m so grateful for this opportunity and all the people who are a part of it. I can’t wait to continue growing and making memories through the rest of this fellowship!!

I’m happy to talk more about my experience at dfc5@rice.edu or dacolon17@gmail.com

A bird in grass

A bare-faced ibis outside our Airbnb (not quite a toucan but I’m sure this fella is friends with one!)

Until then, I will be on the search for a toucan! Ciao! 🇨🇴

Vos Sos Argentino

July 8th, 2025 by Abhi

Hi! My name is Abhi, and I’m a rising senior at McMurtry College! This summer, I traveled to Buenos Aires, Argentina to work with Enseñá Por Argentina (ExA)!

Traveling to Argentina has been among my most rewarding life experiences! While in Argentina, my learning extended beyond the practical use of my Spanish language skills. I found myself engaging with the culture, bonding with my team and others over our differences along the way. In doing so, I’ve made life-long friends and connections!

FOOD:

Before traveling to Argentina, I had a fear: I heard before that Argentina is often considered the meat capital of the world, and some even call it “La Tierra de Carne” (the land of meat). Indeed, this seemed to be true the first day I got here. I quickly learned just how integral milanesas were to the Argentine diet! There is no good comparison to Milanesas in America; in other words, there really is no singular food that, by itself, is eaten with such frequency here in the U.S.; while burgers, for example, are popular, it would be far-fetched to say that most Americans eat burgers several times a week. Milanesas, however, are eaten several days a week in many Argentine households and work environments. Beef, more generally, is a staple in Argentina, so much so that it was not uncommon to see restaurants simply named Res, meaning beef, or some variation of that. 

Being a vegetarian initially seemed to be a daunting challenge in Argentina. Countless questions asking for vegetarian options, however, quickly turned into me discovering a truth about Argentina: there’s always a way. Shortly, I discovered that Argentina was also home to tons of vegan and vegetarian options, and that people were always willing to accommodate you, just as long as you made an effort to connect with them. I also realized that several members of my team at ExA were also vegetarian/vegan, and that Buenos Aires is home to one of the largest growing vegetarian communities in the world. 

With time, I was trying vegetarian milanesas and guiso (a traditional meat stew, which I substituted with beans). I also tried locro, a traditional potato stew from the North of Argentina eaten on May 25th. In Argentina, the 25th of May has historic significance. This day marks the start of the May Revolution of 1810, in which Argentina’s first national government–the Primera Junta–was formed. 6 years later and in July, a formal declaration of independence from Spain would take place. It is tradition in Argentina to eat locro on May 25th, as during the revolution times, this was all that people could afford. Keeping with traditions, I also ate locro on May 25th!

My favorite moments food-wise, however, were in the office as we worked. Each morning, several members of the team would bring snacks into the office – anything from Argentine croissants to cookies to cheerios. The very first day, in fact, they brought in churros! Another time, one of my ExA teammates brought in these special alfajores (cookies with dulce de leche filling) from a company called Capitán Del Espacio. Needless to say, they were very good!

There are tons of elaborate murals across the city

Posters and murals of Messi are everywhere!

CULTURAL DIFFERENCES:

My dietary restrictions actually led to another discovery of mine: while religion and politics are often shied away from on first-encounters in America, they are often discussed in Argentina. It was always interesting hearing the political views of those around the office. It also always amazed me to see how open the team was to learning about my culture.

Another cultural difference was how common yerba mate is. Yerba mate, more commonly known as just mate, is a tea drunk in Argentina. Small cups called “mates” are filled with yerba (herb) and hot water, and to drink it, a metal straw is used (called a bombilla). The tea is shared amongst team mates and passed from one to another. Mate is an integral part of Argentine culture and the Argentine experience. When walking around town, it is common to see people carrying their mate as well as a jug of hot water with them, regardless of the day. At the airport, for example, I saw people drinking mate just before going through security! Even when walking through markets or on the streets, people would carry their mate in one hand and a jug of extra water attached to a strap and wrapped across their body. 

Dinner with one of our coordinators!

Getting dinner with one of the coordinators who helped organize the fellowship with ExA was also a fun time to get to hear more about Argentina’s history, our cultural differences, and have some fun discussions about fútbol, all over some great food!

TOURING THE CITY:

At ExA, they always made an effort to include us in on activities to learn more about Argentina and explore its rich history. One of those activities was the opportunity to tour the city of Buenos Aires on one of our free weekends. During the visit, we learned more about how literature and the city’s architecture intersect. 

A famous poem inscribed into a building in Buenos Aires!

We started from la Plaza de Mayo before using the subway system to get around the city and see some historic sites. However, more interesting than the historic sites were the everyday buildings that were seamlessly tied to the country’s history. Argentina itself has a large influence from countries like Italy, and in Recoleta, there is a larger influence from France, at least in terms of the architecture. For example, many of the buildings had mansard roofs. 

French-influenced architecture on the streets of Buenos Aires

More French-influenced architecture

We finished off the cultural tour with a group picture, after which we explored the local market and had a picnic!

A picture of our team hearing from our “tour guides” (other members of the ExA team) during our cultural tour of the city!

A TRIP TO RIVERDAR:

Beyond our cultural differences, my biggest surprise was the River DAR schooling system.

Can you imagine a middle and high school in America that’s main purpose is to turn out super stars in football? Or maybe a school focused entirely on tennis or baseball or basketball? That’s exactly what River DAR is. River DAR is a specialized school in Argentina that operates with the main goal of turning out some of the best fútbol stars, all while providing them a well-rounded education in math, the sciences, literature, language, and more. 

One of my favorite moments from the RiverDAR visit was getting to speak with the students. As a group, we went into several classrooms to watch the professors teach, with many of them formerly part of the ExA team, to see how we could integrate what we learned from the visits into our office work. 

When we entered, within minutes, I was seated at the students’ tables. “¿Cuánto cuestan los botines en Estados Unidos?” How much do soccer cleats cost in the U.S.? “Y la comida y ropa?” And what about food and clothing? They were a little surprised to learn that food at restaurants sometimes costs quite a bit more here in Argentina than in the average American city.

It wasn’t long before they asked me, “River o Boca,” referring to the historic rivalry between the two best soccer teams in the country (and among the best in the world). I must have answered correctly with River (given that we were at River Dar, the school affiliated with the River Plate soccer team), as they went cheering upon hearing that!

Our team picture at River DAR

My favorite question, however, was from Leo: “Sabes la respuesta correcta?” Do you know the right answer? They were doing a unit in their science class about how common recycling was in the United States. With a little help, he got a 10 out of 10 on that assignment!

It was incredible hearing more from the students about their interest in soccer and their goals. I learned that River DAR was also a boarding school. When I asked the students where they lived, they said in the stadium. In the stadium? Yes, quite literally in the stadium. I questioned further, and they showed me photos of their dorms around the interior of the stadium, with their windows facing the field. 

When I asked the students where they were from, I realized that a good portion were from nowhere close to Buenos Aires, with some from rural cities near Patagonia (the very South of Argentina) and others from Salta (the very North of Argentina). Most of the students’ stories were incredibly different, but the one unifying factor was that their soccer talent was recognized by River DAR, and they were given scholarships to attend the school, all with the hope to one day don the Red, Black, and White of River Plate’s official team.

CLOSING THOUGHTS:

In short, I am so grateful to my incredible team for having given me this unforgettable experience in Argentina. I have never felt so immediately included into a new working environment as I did in Argentina. I am appreciative for all the small little conversations, charlas, here and there, that taught me so much about Argentina and its rich history. What I’ve learned here in Argentina will undoubtedly continue to inform my life in the future.

Argentina, I’ll be back shortly!

If the Medellín Metro Could Speak

August 15th, 2024 by Melissa Mar

This summer, I spent 10 weeks abroad in the City of Eternal Spring, Medellín, Colombia. During this time, my days varied greatly, but one thing remained consistent: nearly every day began and ended on the metro. The metro took me everywhere I needed to go and everywhere I wanted to be. On lucky days, I found a seat; on others, I was packed tightly among fellow commuters. Some mornings, I boarded yawning and weary, longing to still be in bed. Other mornings, I could hardly contain my excitement about the day ahead. In the evenings, I frequently boarded feeling exhausted, struggling to keep my eyes open. From time to time, I was drenched from the unpredictable rain that no weather app could forewarn. Sometimes, I boarded with a smile on my face; other times, with tears in my eyes. I often think that if anyone could tell the story of my time abroad better than I could, it would be the metro—if only it could speak.

Medellín Metro Rail

Medellín Metro Rail

The Medellín Metro has been the gateway to many great adventures in the city, while also reliably ensuring my safe arrival to my Loewenstern Placement on workdays. My commute this summer was quite extensive. It began with a Metro bus ride to the rail station, followed by a 10-stop journey on Line A through the heart of the city. After disembarking, a short walk took me to the office. Of course, I always made sure to stop by the nearby bakery for breakfast before heading into work. I had a fantastic experience working with my placement at Pygmalion Tech. My primary responsibilities involved developing two Python courses: one designed to introduce students to programming and another aimed at teaching adults the basics of data science. These projects were a great opportunity for me to refine my skills and improve my ability to communicate complex ideas effectively, which was both challenging and deeply rewarding. I found that my lengthy commute provided the perfect time to brainstorm and revise my course content. On several occasions, I rushed from the metro to work to jot down the plethora of ideas that I feared I would forget.

Bakery Near My Placement

Beyond facilitating my daily commutes, the Medellín Metro also marked the start and end of many adventures. One of the most memorable was the long and winding bus ride to the trailhead of a popular hike in the Medellín countryside. I vividly recall struggling to keep my balance while standing on the moving bus, gripping the support bars with all my might, and doing my best to avoid falling onto the strangers who would soon become friends. Thanks to social media, I was able to connect with a group of locals who organized weekly excursions and joined them for my first hike on the outskirts of Medellín. We met at one of the Metro rail stops and traveled together to the trailhead. During our hike to El Chorro de las Campanas, the breathtaking waterfall that was our ultimate destination, I enjoyed wonderful conversations with my new companions. This experience was one of the first that made me feel less isolated in Medellín, the warmth of the people was quite different from the chill of the waterfall. Swimming in the refreshing waters was a soul-cleansing experience, and that evening, I boarded the metro rail, covered in mud, exhausted, but so incredibly happy.

El Chorro de las Campanas

Another adventure the metro facilitated was my journey to Comuna 13, a neighborhood in Medellín with a complex yet inspiring history. Once considered the most dangerous part of the city due to paramilitary, guerrilla, and gang violence, it has now become one of the city’s most popular tourist attractions, celebrated for its powerful and historical street art. I was fortunate to take a tour with a local resident who had lived in Comuna 13 his entire life. He shared his personal experiences of living through the area’s tumultuous past and narrated the remarkable transformation of the community through creativity. Visiting this historically rich area and hearing from a local so proud of his neighborhood’s evolution was an incredibly eye-opening experience.

Comuna 13

A unique experience the Medellín Metro offers is the metro cable system. Two of these cables serve as the main transportation to another one of Medellín’s top attractions, Parque Arví. The views from the metro cables are breathtaking, offering a stunning panorama of Medellín as you ascend higher and higher. However, they are not for the faint of heart—the cables go so high that your ears start to pop. Parque Arví itself is a stunning escape from the city, though in a city as vibrant as Medellín, it’s hard to imagine wanting to escape. I spent hours sitting in silence by the running water and dipping my feet in the streams of Parque Arví. I loved it so much that I brought a few Loewenstern fellows back with me.

Parque Arví

Of my countless experiences on the metro, my greatest memory is one of simply standing in the metro rail car on the night of July 10th. There was nothing extraordinary about this night, yet everything was special. When I hopped onto the train that evening, I was immediately brought to tears. I looked around, and almost everyone on that train was wearing the same color—a bright yellow that was hard to look at for too long, but even harder to look away from. The shirts had touches of blue and red, all jerseys for the Colombian national soccer team who were playing that night in the Copa America games, with their fate of reaching the final on the line.

The sight made me emotional in ways I couldn’t fully explain. To put it simply, I was wearing the same colors, the same jersey, and in that moment, I felt a profound connection to this community, sharing their excitement, pride, and joy for the national team. I was on my way to watch the game, hoping for a victory for Colombia. Although I had never been a huge soccer fan, I found myself deeply invested in this team’s success. I am Mexican to the core, but that night I was all in for Colombia.

Being surrounded by such a passionate community made it impossible not to cry. I would not trade my time on the metro for anything in the world, and I am profoundly grateful to have spent a summer in Medellín where these unforgettable moments were made possible for me.

Copa America Watch Party

¡Buenas! Loewenstern Summer 2024 in Bogotá and More

July 31st, 2024 by Siddhant Patil

Arrival into Colombia

As soon as I landed in Bogotá, the reality of being in a country where less than 1% of people speak English quickly set in. The fact that just about everything was labeled in Spanish added to my initial nervousness, and the size of the El Dorado airport, one of the largest in South America, didn’t help either. However, this nervousness was quickly eased by the friendly driver who picked me up. This car ride was my first real experience speaking exclusively Spanish, and after we introduced ourselves for a bit, he asked if I had ever heard of Vallenato. Admitting that I hadn’t, he then introduced me to some of his favorite music, Vallenato being a traditional genre from northern Colombia where he was from.

Unrefrigerated Eggs and Milk in Carulla (kind of like a Colombian Whole Foods)

The next morning before our meeting with the community partner, Meghan Paral (the other Loewenstern Fellow in Bogotá) and I decided to do some quick grocery shopping, where I was surprised to see that eggs and milk weren’t refrigerated. The first of many interesting differences between the US and Colombia. Later that day, at Pontificia Universidad Javeriana, which was the community partner we’d be working with, our mentor Dr. Diego Patiño explained the tasks and goals for this summer placement. He also encouraged us to use long weekends and holidays to explore Colombia and gave us a lot of flexibility, allowing us to develop the project how we wanted as well as visit many parts of the country.

Kind family who took Meghan and I out for dinner

The kind family that took me and Meghan out for dinner

I did feel a little homesick in the beginning, especially knowing I would be in Colombia for the next several months. Luckily, these feelings disappeared pretty quickly by staying connected to my family through FaceTime calls and sending pictures to them just about every day. The busy schedule of working on the project, preparing and submitting my medical school applications, and exploring the country definitely helped a lot as well. A couple of days after landing, we decided to visit the Museo del Oro in Bogotá. There, we met a group of professors from a local university who kindly recommended places to visit and things to do in the city. Later that day at the museum, I saw an Indian family and decided to strike up a conversation about what brought them to Colombia. They said they loved traveling and had explored much of South America, and we had a great time talking about their past travels and future plans in Colombia. A couple of days later, they treated me and Meghan to dinner, which was really nice of them. This was just the beginning of many such great encounters throughout the trip.

 

 

Kuisa

Riding on the roof of a pickup truck on the way from Kuisa to Riohacha

Riding on the roof of a pickup truck on the way from Kuisa to Riohacha

In the small village of Kuisa, located in the La Guajira District of Colombia, lies a school that PUJ Bogotá is working with to introduce various technologies, such as solar panels and access to computers and tablets. Traveling there was an adventure in itself. The journey involved a plane ride from Bogotá to Riohacha, followed by a four-hour car ride to Uribia, the indigenous capital of Colombia, and another four-hour drive on dirt “roads” to Kuisa. During our first trip back, we experienced a flat tire, causing us to arrive at the airport just 20 minutes before our flight’s departure. On our second trip, there was a lack of space in the pickup truck since there were a lot of things stored in the truck bed, so some of us rode on the roof. The unexpectedness eventually became something to expect.

Sunset in Kuisa

Sunset in Kuisa

In Kuisa, our days started early with the sun rising around 5:30 am, and we had breakfast around 6:30 am before the school day, which usually ran from 7:00 am until 12:30 pm. After lunch, nearly everyone would take a nap, a practice I grew to enjoy. There also weren’t any beds, instead everyone used hammocks. Afternoons were spent either talking with the teachers to better understand the schooling system or exploring the area around Kuisa with the kids, which included a nice trip to the nearby lagoon. We’d have dinner after sundown, and due to the scarcity of clean water, we often drank chicha (a fermented corn drink) or bottled soda. I probably drank more Coca-Cola in those weeks than I had in my entire life.

Laguna De Kuisa and surrounding mountains

At the school in Kuisa, we conducted various workshops and activities. Our first visit was fortunate to have internet connectivity, but by our second visit, the internet tower had broken, and they weren’t sure when it would be repaired. Thankfully, the previous Loewenstern Fellow, Caleb Huang, had downloaded several interactive science and math tools that didn’t require internet access. These tools were a hit with the students, many of whom had never used computers before. Watching their faces light up as they explored these new tools was incredibly rewarding, and some students enjoyed them so much that they even asked to use the computers during their free periods. We also hosted workshops about teamwork for the younger students, one of which was a competition to see which team could build the tallest tower using straws. They seemed to enjoy this a lot, and the candy we brought as prizes added to their enjoyment.

Learning about the indigenous Wayuu culture was another highlight for me. During our second visit, Señor Adelco, who is the leader of the community, taught me about the traditional Wayuu religion. He shared that the lagoon and mountains around Kuisa were believed to contain spirits, and it was common practice to make offerings to promote prosperity. Although he mentioned that everyone in Kuisa is Catholic, these were some of the ancient beliefs of his culture. As a religion major, this conversation was particularly meaningful to me. Drawing parallels between this form of spirit veneration with Shinto in Japan and various tribal faiths in India deepened my appreciation for indigenous religions.

Exploring Colombia

Visiting Cartagena with Melissa and Alec (the Loewenstern Fellows placed in Medellín)

Exploring Colombia outside Bogotá and Kuisa was just as enriching as my experiences in those places. I had the opportunity to visit several major cities, each with its own unique charm, including Medellín, the coastal cities of Cartagena, Barranquilla, and Santa Marta, as well as Riohacha.

In Medellín, I had the chance to spend several days with the Quillacinga and Los Pastos indigenous groups, and learning about their traditional medicine was fascinating. The tribe’s deep understanding of nature was evident as each tree and plant had a particular use, and they’d just pick fruits off the trees to share them with me. Their extensive knowledge of natural remedies and their connection to the environment was truly inspiring, giving me an insight into the way humans have lived for thousands of years. Traveling to Cartagena and the nearby cities, Meghan and I met with Melissa and Alec, the other Loewenstern fellows who flew in from Medellín. In these coastal cities, the vibe was completely different, and we spent a lot of time visiting the beach and late-night bar hopping.

Looking over the city of Bogotá from the summit of Monserrate

One of my favorite activities during our travels was climbing mountains. I climbed Monserrate in Bogotá several times, Cerro de las Tres Cruces in Medellín, and a random mountain near Kuisa, guided by the local kids. This mountain in Kuisa, referred to as Uchi, was particularly challenging to climb since there was no path like the other mountains, just clearings between the thorny bushes and cacti. The views from the tops of all of them were breathtaking, and I would spend upwards of an hour or two just listening to music and enjoying the natural beauty from there.

Everywhere we went, I noticed that people were pretty curious about my background. When I mentioned I lived in the United States, the follow-up question was almost always, “But where are you really from?” I actually liked it a lot because it was a way to share my Indian culture. Many people were fascinated by the food that Indians ate, and when I told them that 30% of the country is vegetarian, they were pretty surprised. Sharing Indian music with the locals was also a joy, and I was surprised to see just how pervasive Indian culture was. In the big cities, there were always Indian restaurants, but even in the village of Kuisa, one of the school teachers liked watching Indian TV shows dubbed in Spanish, and Señor Adelco was looking at Facebook on his phone when I was pleasantly surprised to hear a song from the famous Bollywood movie “3 Idiots.”

Homemade Coconut Egg Curry

I liked exploring Colombian cuisine, from meals like Ajiaco, Sancocho, and Mojarra to street food like Patacones con Queso, Arepas, Obleas, Limonada de Coco, and mangos with lemon and salt. I did cook a decent amount too, and the affordability of produce encouraged me to cook even more. I often cooked salmon since it was easy to make, and when I craved Indian food, I’d make egg curry using fresh coconuts. Cracking open the coconut and using the stove to separate the inside from the shell was always fun. Near where we were staying in Bogotá’s Zona G, there was also a lot of international cuisine, so we often went out for sushi, Indian food, burgers and pizza, Greek food, and so, so many desserts.

Lunch with students and faculty from Rice University and PUJ Bogotá, including Dr. César Uribe and Dr. Diego Patiño

Conclusion

Reflecting on my time in Colombia, I understand how profoundly this experience has impacted me. From the busy cities of Colombia to the serene village of Kuisa, every encounter deepened my appreciation for different peoples’ ways of life. The challenges faced throughout my time here, such as missing flights, dealing with dietary restrictions, the scarcity of water in Kuisa and the water being shut off weekly in our apartment, and the intermittent internet access, were all surpassed by innumerable positives. Babysitting and playing with Kashi, Señor Adelco’s granddaughter, teaching bird calls to the kids in La Guajira, stargazing in Kuisa, seeing the football games being streamed on every TV in the apartment building across the street in Bogotá, enjoying the amazing fruits and food, and most importantly meeting all the wonderful people here made this journey truly unforgettable. The level of independence I gained and learning to embrace the situation when things didn’t go my way were just some of the many takeaways for me as I spent my summer in this beautiful country. As I move forward, I carry these lessons I’ve learned and the memories I’ve made, grateful for the chance to immerse myself in Colombia’s vibrant and diverse culture.

Hiking Without a Trail in Colombia

July 31st, 2024 by Meghan Paral

Siddhant and I arrived in Colombia on the 21st of May with a struggling knowledge of Spanish, clothes for every season, and an acceptable amount of trepidation for the coming summer. It was our first time setting foot on the South American continent, and I was insufficiently prepared to be unprepared for all that I didn’t know.

Our community partner, Pontificia Universidad Javeriana, has been wonderful and gracious, offering us the opportunity to self-direct our project with the school Nuestra Señora del Carmen Zona de Kuisa in La Guajira. We were granted an amount of agency over everything from the schedules of our working hours to our travels that I had never experienced before. At first, the idea of such independence, as someone who greatly appreciates structure, was nerve-wracking; however, the more we tested the waters of spontaneity and self-sufficiency, the easier and more enjoyable it became.

The stars in Kuisa – notice: what looks like the setting sun is actually the moon! It’s unbelievably bright without urban light pollution.

Last week, we traveled for the second time to the community of Kuisa in rural La Guajira, Colombia. This requires a flight from Bogotá to the city of Riohacha, a four-hour drive from Riohacha to Uribia, and another four-hour drive from the nearest urban center of Uribia to Kuisa. At night, the absence of light pollution means the multitude of stars are indescribable, creating a startlingly beautiful backdrop to an already awe-inspiring setting of mountains and desert vegetation. One afternoon, Siddhant suggested climbing the nearest mountain, and on that whim, we set off on a three-hour hike to climb a mountain on the horizon without a trail.

The view from atop the mountain – In Wayuunaiki, the language spoken by the Wayuu people, mountain is uchi

Sure, I was impaled by a few cacti along the way, but it was more than worth it. The walk there, stopping every so often to see a new bird or lizard, hearing about Wayuu culture from the kids who came along, and sitting atop the boulders implanted in the side of the mountain, overlooking the “trail” or lack thereof that we’d taken to get there. It was, I think, a cumulative metaphor of all that had occurred during our experience in Colombia, although I didn’t realize it at the time. We were, more or less, hiking without a trail this whole summer. There had been challenging situations and periods of discomfort, and yet, I found myself sitting at the top of the mountain more adaptable and comfortable with the discomfort – grateful, in one way or another – for every experience.

That being said, I do think that one thing in particular helped me stay grounded in the midst of lacking a certain structure that I had become accustomed to back home: birds! Colombia, you may be aware,

From upper right to bottom left: Eared Dove, Tropical Mockingbird, Scaled Dove, Great Egret, American Flamingo, Vermilion Flycatcher, Rufous Collared Sparrow, Sparkling Violetear

is host to more species of birds than any other country on Earth, at over 1,900. We barely scratched the surface of that incredible quantity, but here are some of the incredible individuals that we did manage to spot:

There’s a lot of joy to be found in seeing a species for the first time, and for that reason, a lot of people search for birds that are endemic to the country that they are visiting. That being said, I think there’s a lot of slept-on happiness to uncover when seeing a bird for the zillionth time in a new location. The house sparrow, for example, can be found in as broad a range as eastern Australia, Argentina, India,

Iceland, South Africa, and, where I associate it with most, my home. That being said, they aren’t particularly common in Colombia, so spotting a perfectly spherical little guy hopping his way across the table in a restaurant in Riohacha took me by surprise. Finding a house sparrow in Riohacha meant finding a little piece of home in Colombia, and, after spending ten weeks abroad, that was a poignant gift.

As our journey in Colombia draws to a close, I am filled with a deep sense of gratitude for the experiences we’ve had and the people we’ve met. The lessons learned, both expected and unexpected, have shaped me in ways I couldn’t have imagined. From the independence and spontaneity we embraced to the natural and avian wonders we discovered, this summer has been an adventure. I leave Colombia with a lot of memories, a newfound appreciation for flexibility, and an enduring connection to a place that, for a brief but impactful time, felt like home.

Thank you to Siddhant for photos!